


Yearning for Ashes

by JonsaInTheNorth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-29 00:53:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18767839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JonsaInTheNorth/pseuds/JonsaInTheNorth
Summary: Sansa receives word that Dickon Tarly, one of the few people in King’s Landing who was kind to her, has died in a blaze of heat and flame. She mourns quietly, softly, alone, reconciling her wistful dreams with what she never had.





	Yearning for Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this back in 2017 after episode 705, where Dickon and Randyll Tarly are executed. It's been mildly edited since.

 

The raven came like any other, a bird flying for miles until it reached its roost at Winterfell, its blackness in stark contrast against the bright white of the Northern snow. The message was short and blunt, but how could Jon have known?

 _Dark wings, dark words_.

Daenerys Targaryen defeated the Lannisters after the Sack of Highgarden and avenged her ally's death and loss. Most Lords of the Reach bent the knee, and even some from the Westerlands. All this came about only after Lord Tarly and his heir perished in her dragon’s flame, an example to the rest.

Lord Randyll Tarly’s heir was Ser Dickon, his younger, recently knighted son. Sansa rolled the parchment and handed the scroll back to Maester Wolkan. Quickly, she glanced out the window to mask her face. She did not want the maester to see his Lady blinking back tears at the death of a stranger who was essentially their enemy.

"Will that be all, my lady?"

"Yes. Thank you for bringing me this news."

Maester Wolkan bows and sees himself out of her office. Sansa sets her elbows on the desk before her and cradles her head. _Oh, how far the world has separated us_.

The Tarlys arrived in King’s Landing shortly after the Battle of the Blackwater. Dickon had been a friend to Loras Tyrell. Sansa saw him often when she was with Margaery and Lady Olenna. The Tyrells sent Dickon to escort Sansa through the gardens many times, tasked with telling tales of Willas Tyrell, her betrothed. Dickon told her about Willas's many accomplishments and even introduced her to his sweet hunting hound, Arrow, who had been a gift from Willas in commemoration of Dickon's knighting. 

Sansa knew that Dickon came to her with an agenda, and yet, he made her feel like herself again.

Their short walks and whispers of Willas turned into something more, longer strolls and actual conversation. Dickon shared her fondness for music, and expressed his excitement for the days when he would finally be able to compete in tourneys. _One day_ , Sansa had even brashly suggested, _Perhaps you’ll even wear my favor, my lord_.

 _But first I would need to have one, my lady_. His smile had lit up then and he had glanced to the side, both keenly aware they were supposed to be discussing another. But Willas, with his crippled leg, could never wear her favor or crown her Queen of Love and Beauty.

During their next amble through the endless verdure of the Red Keep, Sansa slipped Dickon a grey handkerchief embroidered with delicate white snowflakes and a calm red wolf lying asleep in the snow. 

 _Thank you, Sansa. The stitches are exquisite. I will treasure it always_.

Sansa sighed and stroked her cheek with her hand, remembering the light flutter of a kiss he had placed their in thanks for his gift. From Dickon, her name had sounded like a breath of air across a field of flowers, soft and gentle. 

Even after her marriage to Lord Tyrion, Dickon had been the only one from the Reach who still spoke with her. He danced with her at her own wedding - twice - and told her she was the most lovely bride he had ever seen. Sansa had noted the barest fleck of grey cloth poking out of his collar - her favor, she thought it might be. _Be brave, my lady._

Sansa was no longer a little girl, but she had still foolishly dreamed of Dickon finding her, in the Vale or in Winterfell. He would have defeated Ramsey, she knows it, and then they could have gone south and reveled in the warmth of the southern sun and the flowers and majesty of Horn’s Hill, forever.

She wanders down the halls of Winterfell until finally she stood in her own chamber. Sansa fell into the embrace of her pillows and her sheets, the welcome warmth enveloping her completely. There was nothing left but fear and sadness now. Fear for Jon, stuck on an island so far away, and sadness for the life she lost but never knew.

A hand on her cheek, she fell asleep, dreaming of a tomorrow that included the best man she has known.

**Author's Note:**

> You can hit me up at [tumblr](https://www.jonsainthenorth.tumblr.com) for more ASOIAF speculation and Jonsa fun.


End file.
